Rise of Legends (The Kin of Kings Book 2) (15 page)

“It’s clear,” she said. “Was everything alright back there? We heard sounds of battle.”

“Be quiet,” Cleve whispered as he watched their escape route, an arrow ready.

Annah walked over to the same wall and put her hand against it. “I can’t sense them anymore. They must’ve gone back.”

Cleve returned the arrow to his quiver and joined the rest of them near Alabell.

“Good,” Jackie said. “That should give us plenty of time before they can alert anyone who can get to us up here. Basen, can you make a portal?”

“No, and there was nowhere within that passageway either. I’ll let you know when I come across a spot where I can.”

She nodded. “Does anyone need a rest? We might not be able to stop again for a while.” But it seemed that Annah was the only one still breathing heavily. Jackrie looked at her and waited, but Annah said nothing.

“Then let’s go.”

They left the alcove one by one. As Basen stepped out, the view took his breath. They were on the top of the mountain, but to his surprise, it was almost flat, as if the apex had somehow been sliced off. He could see for miles. The Fjallejon Pathway, a long yet narrow gap, split the two seemingly even roofs of smooth stone. But there were still many places where rock jutted from the ground, sometimes piercing high into the sky.

He looked the other way to find the mountains to be drastically different behind him; shelves of stone, some flat and some treacherous, stacked on top of themselves. Rocky pillars were mixed between the shelves, revealing only a few available paths.

“Did my uncle say how many men he thinks are here?” Cleve asked.

“There can’t be more than a thousand.” Jackrie edged forward as if approaching the side of a cliff, even though they were in the middle of miles of open land. “But it’s anyone’s guess where they are.”

Shouldn’t we hurry?
But Basen felt too uncomfortable to ask his question, fearing he would hear what he was beginning to see, that Jackrie had no idea what to do now that their enemies were aware of them.

“Jackrie?” Annah prompted, as everyone glanced around nervously.

Their leader finally began to move at a jog. “Come on.”

They followed, running for a while, completely exposed. Soon Jackrie pointed at a hole and said, “Don’t fall.”

Curious about it, Basen shined light down as he passed by. There were stairs, making it appear to be an entrance into the mountains where he knew the Fjallejons lived.

Did Jackrie know that in order to get off the mountain, they eventually would have to go down one of these entrances?
Terren wouldn’t have picked someone inexperienced with the Fjallejon Mountains.
But it seemed doubtful that she would know which entrance to take given that she’d never gone up the secret passageway until now.

Basen’s stomach roiled with panic as Jackrie looked around as if lost.

“Over here,” she said, jogging toward the nearest rock pillar. She took a map out of her backpack when they got there. “Rest for a moment.”

Annah closed her eyes and extended her arm. She turned slowly until she’d made a complete circle. “I sense people nearby.” She pointed north, the direction they’d been going.

Jackrie motioned for everyone to stay quiet and folded up her map.

Basen heard footsteps not far behind the pillar. Another set of footsteps joined the first, heavy soles indicating that these were humans, not Fjallejons, who walked barefoot.

Jackrie held up two fingers in front of Annah and cocked her head in question. Anna nodded to confirm that there were only two.

Seeing this, Peter reached for his bow, but Basen pushed out his palms to indicate the warrior should wait. Peter turned up his hands in annoyance while wearing a scowl, showing he didn’t understand the point of waiting.

Basen couldn’t explain that this was a chance to learn something about their enemies. He couldn’t speak without risking being overheard. At least Jackrie agreed with him, mimicking Basen’s gesture at Peter.

But the two strangers said nothing as they walked toward the pillar. Everyone tensed as they watched Jackrie and waited for an order. She held up her hand for everyone to be still.

“Light this, will you?” said one of the two. His voice was gruff, as if he’d smoked for years. The sound of a sizzling fire followed, then a slow inhale before an exhale.

The same brusque voice spoke again. “If I knew I’d be stuck here with half-sized men that smell as bad as they’re ugly, I wouldn’t have come this far from home.”

“Kyrro is supposed to be our new home,” said another man, his voice tired yet patient. “And the Fjallejons don’t smell.”

“I was talking about you.” The gruff one’s loud laugh became an exclamation of surprise. “Careful! You almost made me drop my pipe.”

Peter was all but growling as he gave furious looks at Jackrie, silently demanding she give the order to kill these men. She shot him a glance a mother might if she caught her child about to pick up a sharp stick they both knew he would pretend was a sword. Peter didn’t relent, though, grinding his teeth and staring right back at her.

“All there is to do here is smoke,” Gruff Voice complained.

“I don’t mind being paid to wait.”

“We’re not just going to wait. Abith will send us against the Academy soon.”

“He told you this?”

“Someone who spoke to him told me.”

“Who?”

“Little B.”

The more patient man scoffed. “I wouldn’t trust his word.”

These men knew Abith, but Basen was confident he’d never heard their voices before in Tenred. They must’ve met Abith after the last war and were now under his command.
That’s likely to mean Abith is here in the Fjallejon Mountains.

“Who’s going to take the Academy, if not us?” Gruff questioned.

“The rest of them down south after they take Trentyre. More of them are there anyway.”

“And more of Kyrro’s troops as well. There must be a lot of them since the city hasn’t fallen yet.”

“Not since. Because.”

“What?”

“ ‘Since’ is a measurement of time,” the patient man explained offhandedly. “I’ve heard you use the word incorrectly several times.”

There was a moment of silence.

“And,” continued the same man, “use ‘who’ instead of ‘that’ when describing humans and Fjallejons, like ‘Fjallejons who smell.’ ”

“This is why no one likes you,” grumbled Gruff.

Jackrie finally gave the order Peter was waiting for. He and Cleve ran out from behind the pillar as if racing. Jackrie was right with them, but Basen lagged behind with Annah and Alabell. While hiding behind the stone, he hadn’t been sure if he could kill these men, and when he looked into their surprised eyes, he found himself unable to attack unless Cleve and Peter needed assistance. Fortunately, they didn’t, sticking their swords in both enemies before they could get their weapons drawn.

Unfortunately, this didn’t stop the gruff-voiced man from howling, “The mountain’s under attack!”

“Run.” Jackrie glanced behind her as she hurried.

Basen caught up to her, then took a look behind him as well. Men seemed to rise up from the ground, swordsmen and bowmen coming two by two, emerging from all around the vast mountaintop.

An arrow hissed in front of Basen. Another scraped the ground beside him. Two more zipped over his head.

He noticed an archer from the corner of his eye, this one too close to miss everyone in their clustered group. Basen stopped to focus all of his effort into gathering energy as quickly as possible for a fireball. The archer had already drawn his string, but Basen had to try.

An arrow shot from behind Basen sunk into the archer’s chest. Basen glanced behind him to find Cleve drawing another arrow. The large warrior waited with his string pulled back almost impossibly far. When another man emerged, Cleve put him on the ground, too.

“Hurry up,” Jackrie called back at them, making Basen realize the rest of his group was now well ahead of him and Cleve. Jackrie headed straight toward a jagged rock standing before them, an opening at its center.

They sprinted as arrows rained down around them. A fireball exploded against the mountaintop just ahead, shocking everyone into stopping for a moment to shield themselves from the heat and dust. They protected their eyes with their arms and jumped over the dying flames. Another fireball struck behind them soon after, the hot wind pushing against Basen’s back.

Jackrie seemed out of breath by the time they got close, so Basen took it upon himself to provide light as his speed took him to the front of the group. The tunnel descended at a sharp angle…then dropped straight down.

“Whoa!” He grabbed onto the pocked sidewall, skidding down the slick slope. He couldn’t stop himself before one foot slipped off the ledge. He leaned back to put all of his weight on the foot still grounded, but the downward angle of the slick ground was too much for him. His heart lurched as he fell.

Basen crashed against hard ground, his back slamming into jagged rock. It was a short fall, but he felt too dazed to even cast light. Worried someone would come down on top of him, he scrambled forward on his knees. But his shins and hands scrabbled against something hard that rolled beneath him and stopped his progress.

Light illuminated his surroundings as Jackrie cast it down from above. He found himself on a pile of bones in a small cavern with only one path that twisted immediately in front of him, preventing him from seeing farther in. A pair of human skulls locked by their teeth caused him to shriek.

“Move forward!” Jackrie told him, clearly eager to jump down next.

Basen summoned his courage as he rose to his feet and took two steps forward. He stopped at the turn and peered around cautiously. The tunnel’s roof sank drastically just ahead, forcing him to crawl if he wished to continue. He announced this behind him as the rest of his group helped each other down onto the pile of bones.

“I have no idea where this leads,” Jackrie said, “so be ready for anything.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The acrid smell of dung was dense as Basen crawled on his stomach. His wand in his left hand provided a dim light that painted the craggy ground and walls yellow. His right hand was ready to grab his sheathed sword that pressed against his leg every time he moved. There were more bones, but they were small and thin enough to break between two fingers, certainly not belonging to humans.

From ahead came the sound of animal squeaks, as if from rats.

Basen stopped for a moment. “God’s mercy,” he muttered, then continued onward.

“Faster.” Peter pushed on his heels.

“Shut up and stop pushing.” Basen couldn’t go any faster. His back stung and felt wet with blood from falling into the cavern.

“Annah, where are you?” he called over his shoulder.

“Here,” came her frightened voice from somewhere far behind. He couldn’t see past the last turn he’d made.

“I think there are rats in here. Can you sense anything?”

“Yes. They’re not rats.”

Suddenly, multiple women behind Basen were screaming as if engaged in a battle. He could only stop and listen with dread, the space too tight to turn around. The shouts of men were next.

“They’re here!” Alabell announced.

Peter shoved against Basen in an attempt to turn around, though it was even more hopeless for the large warrior to maneuver. All he did was push Basen against the walls.

A hiss from in front of him captured Basen’s attention. A rodent the size of his foot bared its tiny teeth. The creature’s greasy fur shone beneath Basen’s light, its long, ugly snout jiggling above its head as it let out a sharp squeal. Whatever it was, it was bigger and nastier than a rat.

He cursed under his breath as he tried to free his sword from the sheath trapped under his hip. More hissing caused his pulse to race, which he could hear in his head louder than the muffled screams behind him. More of the rodents had gathered behind the first, baring their teeth as if they’d already decided to strike, and now it was just a matter of when.

The tunnel was too narrow for a fireball, but Basen couldn’t free his damn sword. The disgusting rodents scampered straight for him as he finally ripped his wand free from the holder on his belt. He covered his face with one arm and stretched the other as far as possible to extend his wand. Unable to see, he could only hear the sizzling of fire as he created a pillar of flame.

The heat from it stung his hand like a bite from a snake, but he didn’t relent. The creatures shrieked for a long while, refusing to die. He strained to feed more energy to the fire, continuing to burn the rodents until he could hear nothing more. Then he let the spell end.

“Move, move, move!” Jackrie yelled from somewhere behind.

Basen lifted his head and saw no rodent bodies.
They ran,
he realized in dismay, for it meant he might have to face them again.

He crawled quickly, his undershirt clinging to his back where he bled. “Is everyone all right?” he called to those behind him.